Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 59: Tonight, Italy Belongs to AC Milan!

Many Serie A fans had tried to predict how this highly anticipated match would play out. Milan had the advantage in overall squad strength, but Napoli boasted Edinson Cavani, arguably the hottest striker in the league.

If both teams opened up and played freely, it might be a 50/50 on who took their chances better. If they played conservatively, with Napoli's full-strength back line, a 0–0 first half wouldn't be surprising.

But nobody expected what actually happened.

Just thirteen minutes into the match, Milan's very first real attacking move broke the deadlock!

And not just that—it was executed with a completely different tactical approach than what Milan had used all season.

Zlatan Ibrahimović, normally the focal point of the attack, was relegated to a supporting role. Instead, Pato became Milan's hidden weapon, while the supposed support players—Leon and Boateng—became the ones who made the decisive run.

Everything was flipped on its head!

The match threw fans, pundits, and Napoli supporters alike into disarray. Even neutrals were stunned.

Then, seeing Allegri on the touchline, celebrating with passion but absolutely zero surprise on his face—it all made sense.

He had prepared this.

Allegri had come into this match with a game plan.

And poor Walter Mazzarri, who had been so confident before kickoff, was the one who walked straight into a trap.

The Italian media, known for loving tactical breakdowns, were at a loss. They could always analyze Allegri's defense, but his offensive plans? If not relying on star players, then it was all unpredictable madness.

Today, he had ended an attacking move with a youngster who could only head the ball, and a chaotic midfielder with a history of wayward shots.

What other manager in the league would even consider this approach?

More importantly—who else could pull it off?

With Milan taking an early 1–0 lead and control of the match, even the most skeptical journalists had no choice but to start drafting complimentary pieces against their better judgment.

Meanwhile, Allegri wasn't slowing down. He shouted, louder than necessary, "Get back! Drop!"—as if he wanted Mazzarri to hear every word.

Mazzarri clenched his fists, then sighed. His top priority now was figuring out how to break down Milan's dense defensive wall.

Lavezzi's absence was hurting Napoli more than anyone expected.

The Argentine forward, with his tight control and incisive passes, was the perfect weapon against teams parking the bus.

Without his flank-breaking runs, Napoli were overly reliant on Marek Hamsik to support Cavani. And Hamsik was struggling under the pressure.

As for Giuseppe Mascara, Napoli's other starting forward today?

He was supposed to be a backup, a late-game option. Mazzarri couldn't reasonably expect him to suddenly become a difference-maker.

It left the coach hoping—desperately—for a Milan mistake.

But Milan under Allegri didn't make careless errors. Not today.

When the match restarted, Milan dropped back with discipline, tightening their formation. Their stifling defense immediately snuffed out Napoli's attacks.

Allegri wasn't interested in giving Napoli even a sliver of hope.

Leon, who had already stunned them in attack, now frustrated them even more in defense.

In the 17th minute, Napoli pushed up Milan's left flank. Maggio overlapped with Hamsik to try and get in behind.

But Leon, covering for Antonini, flew in with a precise sliding challenge and shut the move down cold.

Just three minutes later, Napoli tried attacking through the middle. Hamsik, driving forward with the ball, was forced to pass backward under pressure from Leon and a recovering Boateng.

Another attack dead in its tracks.

In the 24th minute, Leon pulled back Gárgano to stop a sudden surge—smart, deliberate, and absolutely effective.

Two minutes after that, he out-jumped Mascara to win a crucial aerial duel at midfield.

You couldn't say Leon was everywhere—but somehow, he was always there when it mattered most.

And Hamsik? He was having a rough night.

He thought he could outrun most players his age. But Leon could run farther. Harder. Faster.

With Lavezzi missing, Hamsik had to do double duty as creator and support runner.

But with Leon stuck to him like glue, he couldn't even do one job properly.

Even worse, the few times Napoli lost possession, Milan nearly turned it into danger on the break—usually starting with Leon's timely interception.

Left, right—Leon and Gattuso.

Add Boateng's relentless tracking back, and Milan's midfield was an iron curtain.

Napoli's attack couldn't flow. It couldn't even breathe.

The home crowd didn't mind at all.

Milan fans loved what they were seeing. Their chants echoed through San Siro—fervent, joyful, relentless.

Napoli's players started to crack. You could see the frustration on their faces.

To stay safe, Allegri didn't push for another goal right away. He didn't gamble on another offensive blitz.

And with no green light from the coach, Pirlo also cooled down, limiting his long passes.

Instead, even the maestro joined the defensive effort, sprinting back when needed.

His and Gattuso's legs may not have been as fresh—but tonight, they gave everything.

By halftime, Napoli had only registered two shots on target.

Cavani, second in Serie A's scoring charts, had just one look at goal in 45 minutes.

Some Napoli fans began to lose hope.

This kind of suffocating defense made one thing crystal clear:

Milan were on a different level.

Milan had gone up 1–0 in just 13 minutes. But with more than 30 minutes of attacking play, Napoli had still fallen behind in shot attempts.

It was ridiculous.

That's what happens when your belief is slowly stripped away. Napoli were a textbook case.

They couldn't break through. They didn't believe they could stop Milan's counters either.

As the half dragged on, they looked more and more defeated.

Mazzarri knew he couldn't afford to ease up.

Everyone in Serie A understood one thing by now: if Milan scored first, you couldn't afford to let them settle.

They would grind you down.

He knew it. He'd seen it before.

He didn't want to let this chance to derail Milan slip through his fingers.

So at halftime, he pushed his players hard—rallied them.

He told them Napoli's title hopes were on the line. That they couldn't afford to quit now.

Maybe the speech worked.

Maybe Napoli just had a little pride left in them.

But when the second half began, they actually managed to mount a fierce counterattack.

Cavani dropped deep to help build up play.

Both wingbacks—Maggio and Dossena—bombed forward aggressively.

Napoli threw bodies forward, desperate to exploit the temporary advantage in numbers.

And for a moment, Milan wobbled. Just a little.

It was the beginning of a storm.

But the question was—how long could Napoli keep this up? And could Milan weather it?

Because tonight, all of Italy was watching.

And tonight, it already felt like Italy belonged to AC Milan.

At the very least, Milan goalkeeper Abbiati was finally starting to get busy.

Sensing something wasn't quite right, Allegri made a decisive double substitution, sending on Seedorf and Van Bommel to replace the tiring Gattuso and Pirlo.

This time, he didn't shift Leon back to the holding midfield role.

Van Bommel took over Pirlo's position, Leon remained on the left side of midfield, and Seedorf—Milan's all-around veteran—took up the role of orchestrator from deep.

With those changes, Milan's midfield became significantly more solid.

Previously, Leon had to keep one eye on covering for Pirlo, so he couldn't fully expand his sweeping coverage to the right flank.

But now, with Van Bommel sweeping behind him, Leon was free to unleash.

"Drug test! He needs a drug test after the game! How is that kid not tired?! He's running even more than before! That's not normal!"

One Napoli fan in the stands had clearly had enough, shouting in frustration as Leon once again threw himself across the midfield to disrupt Napoli's momentum.

But the Napoli supporters around him weren't in the mood to agree.

Leon had already clocked over thirteen kilometers in a previous match without raising suspicion.

Clearly, he had passed all his post-match tests. Players like him—relentless, boundless engines in midfield—were rare, yes, but not unheard of.

Some Napoli fans muttered curses under their breath.

But in contrast to the 60,000 strong Milan faithful filling San Siro with deafening roars of encouragement, the jeers from the away end barely made a dent.

The Rossoneri were feeding off their crowd. Every tackle, every sprint, every pass was met with raucous approval.

As the match ticked toward the 70th minute and Napoli still showed no real signs of breakthrough, Mazzarri was forced to make a choice.

He couldn't delay any longer.

Confident in his starting lineup, he gave the signal: all out attack.

"Hold the center line! I've got the left—Hamsik isn't getting through!"

Leon's voice rang out as he barked instructions to Boateng and Van Bommel, also offering them reassurance.

Those two only needed to lock down Napoli's central channel. Leon, with Antonini's support, would handle the flank—Hamsik and Maggio included.

It was a tough assignment, but after gauging his remaining energy, Leon knew he had enough gas in the tank to pull it off.

And besides, Milan weren't just going to turtle up.

Ibrahimović and Pato had been resting long enough. Now it was their turn to step up.

With the match in full intensity, tackles and challenges started flying in from both sides.

Even amid the rising tension, Leon remained composed, recalling his teacher Alonso's final words before he left Madrid:

"You can agitate the opponent, bait them with seemingly reckless challenges, but don't let emotions dictate your decisions. We're holding midfielders—we can't afford to lose our heads. One lapse, and the whole match might be lost. Observe. Think. Restrain yourself."

Taking a deep breath, Leon's sharp gaze scanned the chaos for the next window of opportunity.

In the 81st minute, Seedorf intercepted the ball and launched a counterattack with a long pass.

But this time, Cannavaro Jr. got ahead of Pato and headed it back to midfield.

With no chance to make a play, Pato switched positions with Ibrahimović and began drifting toward the left.

Napoli's Gárgano quickly fed the ball to Hamsik, who immediately looked to thread a diagonal ground pass to Maggio's run on the right.

But just as San Siro's away section prepared to erupt in anticipation—bam! Leon, sliding in with a perfect interception, stopped them cold.

Ball. Retained.

The crowd exploded.

And then—he didn't pass back.

Leon, energized by instinct and adrenaline, surged down the left flank with the ball.

He cut through the field like a bullet. Maggio was left in the dust. Even Hamsik couldn't get close as Leon blew past him in a single powerful stride.

"Leon's off and running! He's still going! He's faster than Napoli's midfielders! Gárgano and Hamsik are closing in—Leon could be surrounded!" shouted the Italian Sky Sports commentator in breathless excitement.

But that small margin—that little bit of extra fuel in the tank—was all Leon needed to create danger.

Pato began his own run near Napoli's back line, drawing defenders.

Leon saw it all unfolding.

Just before the trap snapped shut around him, he sent a diagonal through ball curving across the field.

A whip-smart pass that flared outward, then sharply cut back in.

Pato looked surprised for a split second, but his elite instincts kicked in. He surged past Cannavaro, outpacing him in a clean break.

Cannavaro tried to recover with a desperate sliding tackle—too late.

Pato met the ball cleanly. He took one step, adjusted his footing, then unleashed a shot toward the far corner.

De Sanctis dived low, reaching with his near hand—but Pato had gone high!

De Sanctis realized his mistake too late. His outstretched arm came up short as the ball tore into the top corner.

Goal.

Pato screamed with joy as he ran to Leon, the two of them embracing in a moment of unfiltered triumph.

The San Siro erupted. Red and black waves of celebration swept through the stands.

Across Italy—England, Spain, Germany, France—commentators erupted in synchronized ecstasy.

It was a goal for Leon's bravery, for Pato's brilliance, and for Milan's resilience.

Under the San Siro night sky, beneath 60,000 Rossoneri fans singing in unison, Napoli's title hopes crumbled.

Mazzarri slumped in defeat, rubbing his forehead.

Cavani stood motionless, hands on hips, staring across the field at the celebrating Milan players.

Hamsik, crushed with guilt, pulled his shirt over his face.

The Napoli fans had fallen silent.

Neutral fans across the country, watching on television, knew the truth:

The match was over.

Tonight, Italy belonged to AC Milan.

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